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World Between Concept: Iluxidor/Rioduil |
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THEY KILLED MY ACCENTS. ;_;
Personality: Quiet, introspective, tactical, calculating, skeptical, deeply bitter
Previous Occupation: Strategic advisor(and living morphine) for a rather batshit insane warlord from Generic Tolkein-esque World. But then, it's really not that generic if the elves go about -starting- wars, is it?
Ficlet Sample:
<Kill them all! I want to see the horizon stained red!>
The flash of mirrored silver in the rose-hued sunset met no eyes.
<All that you have slaved for culminates to this moment! Leave no man alive!>
The steps were silent, drowned out in the sinister cacophony of war.
<Our land shall be purified of those who are inferior!> Asuriel raised his hands in triumph, regarding his warriors with frenzied eyes as crimson as the blood being shed before him. <LONG LIVE THE--> He stopped. His gaze placated and he looked down to his waist, curiously watching red fluid bloom from a slender hand firmly grasping a fine wooden handle.
<I've had enough. This insanity stops now.>
High Illorian Ruler Asuriel carefully unfurled the fingers around the weapon and pulled it out, watching a drop of his own life fluid join that of the Impure soaking the ground. He turned about to face his assailant with a friendly smile steeped in false pretenses. <Oh! Rioduil, so glad to see you're still here! You usually go back to the Sanctum the first chance you get when you know there's a battle to be fought.>
<A battle? A battle for what?!> Rioduil's hand charged out towards the slaughter not a stone's throw away, robe of mahogany veloure snapping in defiance. <These people have done nothing to us, and you bring down the full strength of our ill-gotten army against them?!>
<I fail to see the problem, precious Advisor.> Asuriel maintained his lighthearted smile even as he took another step to stare into his right-hand man's trembling amber eyes. <They breached our boundaries and began to spread their infestation. That should be offense enough.>
Rioduil's gaze sharpened into a desperate sliver. <They're innocent beings!> Perfectly clear tears fell invisibly down thin cheeks as he grasped his superior's hand and turned it in on itself to plunge the blade into its owner's chest. <They're innocent, damn you! I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS!>
<My dear Rioduil.> An elegant, thin hand calmly closed around a neck framed by strands of obsidian. <You know I've always been fond of you. I'm really very concerned for your sanity if you believe you have something to stand against!> The radiant fires of passionate resistance drained from Rioduil's face after only a few moments. Asuriel watched his assistant's form crumple lifelessly to the ground, lying strained and broken as the discarded doll he had been.
The screaming and warcries faded into nothing as the sun receded in shame from the battlefield, and Asuriel gazed in content at the splendor he had wrought. <Beautiful. Truly, there is nothing more mesmerizing in this world than the murals only death can create.> His deep blue eyes fell to the resting form of Rioduil, watching his chest rise and fall in perfect rhythm. <I truly hoped you would see the same wonder in it as I, that you would have been the side of my soul I so desperately needed.>
<High Ruler!> Asuriel turned to the blood-stained soldier, not bothering to return his salute. <What do you want us to do with the traitor?>
<Traitor? Oh my, no! Dear Rioduil is far from traitorous!> He took to a knee and gently ran his hand across the soft fabric of the other's robe, that same light, heartless smile settled upon his eternally youthful features. <He merely doesn't understand my motivations.>
<I see. What do you wish to do with him?>
<Take him to the Sanctum. He will be my finest work yet.>
-***-
<Well?> Rioduil didn't bother to struggle, staring down his superior in as defiant a manner as he could manage. Asuriel maintained his grin, running his index finger along the side of his dagger's blade. <Do you have any final words before I... how shall I say, 'return the favor' you paid me yesterday?>
<In fact, I do.> The finely-woven leather straps prevented Rioduil from standing to look more evenly into Asuriel's latently troubled eyes, but he poured all the malice and conviction he could muster into his piercing amber gaze. <I was wrong about that, what I did the day before.>
<Oh? Is that so?>
<Yes. I shouldn't have attacked you at all.> For the first time, the once-Grand Advisor cracked a grin of his own. <Even if I had killed you, not even the darkest of the elven gods would have taken you.> Asuriel's smile dropped at that exact moment. <You will never die, and the world will crumble around you.> Rioduil put all his effort into forming the next few words, enunciating every syllable as precisely as he knew how.
"Pray the gods of Men will take you when We will not."
The final strand of Asuriel's sanity snapped at the moment his dagger bit into Rioduil's heart. Brilliant red painted his face, the precisely domed ceiling, the others in attendance; everything that blood could rest on was sprayed the finest vermillion hue, every coat renewed with each plunge of the blade. Asuriel didn't stop even when the sun had fallen that day, his desperate tears mingling with the blood that had stopped flowing hours ago.
Rioduil found himself at rest long before the sunset of his death, yet he was not greeted by the customary field of white that had been spoken of in folklore. He was not dressed in the fine white ensemble of the Passed. He was not even aware he was anywhere or anything at all. All he felt was nothing.
He was nothing.
He was Nobody.
 Val-Rei · Sun Jun 04, 2006 @ 06:58am · 0 Comments |
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